Woodard Thistleton II

They called him old fashioned...


...because he was. Old fashions to him, were simply "fashions". As sole proprietor to his small-town empire of dry goods and ice transport, Mr. Thistleton was indeed a rakish chap. He preferred high-sleeved jackets and waistcoats. A bit more flattering, and very forward for the time. His club collared shirt was his chosen aesthetic, as the Arrow Collars of the day were by far too popular. "Well-made of course, but it is merely a phase," he would say to his tailor. The pocket watch he inherited from Woodard Thistleton I, his father, reminded him often that although we created the clock, the clock now dictated our very lives. Time is money, and money is power. Power was merely a byproduct of being the busiest entrepreneur in town. It did have its benefits: that of keeping the finest restaurants' fine foods chilled with his ice and all; the best table in the house was left empty had he wanted to stop in. A tragic accident in his warehouse would leave him no heirs, and a mourning sister. Yet the Thistleton name would live on as a trusted name in the Bird Feed and refrigeration industries, ensuring that history would not forget such a devoted worker.

War Turtle

My Dearest Valerie,



It has been 4 long months since I have seen your beautiful smile, or heard your sweet voice. It is cold here, and I look forward to making it home to once again feel your tender embrace. I miss our long walks along our plantation, and especially the warmth there. The chill in the night here is the kind that clings to your soul, and never lets you forget the severity of why you are out here. I feel death itself is always near, made apparent by my fallen friends, and the horrors of the battle field. Knowing that you are home, safe and warm, is a thought that I cling to like the last ember on kindling in a dying fire.
As the wind rips through my Burberry, I will persevere knowing that there is an end to this war; but more importantly, a beautiful girl anticipating my arrival. The sun may not warm this land, but there is a warmth I feel with you in my thoughts. I miss you dearly, my sweetheart, and will hold you again.

Sincerely yours, with love

Thomas G

Scratch a Cynic...

...and you will find a broken heart.


He had much to be joyful about. Much to do, staying occupied. Keeping his mind off of it. But also there was sorrow. He had given himself fully; had been so willing to try once more, but to no avail. It was not for lack of effort, but it didn't work out. So he kept moving forward. Hope would no longer keep him afloat. Work would be his passion. He would bury any pain deep within his long hours spent at the drafting table. I will be a success not out of spite, but because I know I can be, I am, better. The will and the drive to move on had taken him this far, and it would take him further.

Wrapped Up

She didn't know what to expect.


She had tossed all of her belongings into a suitcase in a bit of a frenzy. 3 pairs of boots, 2 pairs of jeans (one skinny, dark. another washed, casual.) Countless t-shirts (do they wear t-shirts there?) Her favorite hoody; and finally enough coats to warm not only herself but her neighbors as well. Upon her arrival, cool but comfortable temperatures prevailed. A slight breeze hid her sigh of relief. I'm not out of place, she thought. All is well. Now I can adjust to the easiest part of this journey: learning a new language.

Its always easier to leave, than to be left.

An Overcoat for Warmth

It was cold out. The weather matched his heart.


Burned again, he wandered. Aimlessly at first, without much purpose. Thinking of love lost, what could have been...he ended up in a park. At first he didn't notice the couple. Had he noticed, he would have left. But no, they caught him by surprise. The tenderness in which they regarded each other jarred him out of his own mind. Soft kisses, nuzzling each others' necks. . . god how he missed it. Maybe it wasn't real? He recalled a conversation with his friend:
"Man, your first girlfriend was a real whore. At least its not that bad."
"Well, you get what you pay for."
"You'll do better. Finding the right one is a journey. Hopefully it will pick up when she gets back."
"Hope is a word forlorn to me after the last one."
"There's always hope, my friend."
Well, hope, and clothes. There are always clothes. And beer. Two things that can't break your heart. In the end, maybe it was all in his head.

A Gentleman and a Rabbit

The details made all of the difference.


Plaid pants hemmed up to show an inch of ankle. Bass shoes. A blazer, tailored to fit like armor. He felt confident that his carrot-cuff links were a big enough nod to his habit. But he paid attention to more than his appearance. Indeed the rabbit scoured the newspaper daily, to find antiques in the classifieds, look for new work, anything to stay occupied. Work inspired him, staying busy left him fulfilled. After all, the small things in life made all of the difference.

Pigeon Cardigan

Life throws some unexpected surprises at you.


Sometimes you follow your life path. Then life throws a few obstacles in your way. Sometimes you have to button up your cardigan over your shirt and tie, roll up the slim jeans and take a walk; but don't forget your umbrella. The reason is that you can never be sure when the rain will pour. Or, if you happen to be in Phoenix laying out under a tree and wet semi-solid objects begin falling from the sky, you will find that an umbrella would have been prudent.

Going On

To see the world, one must leave comfort.

Moving onto better things in life. Leaving a past behind her, that she could not longer relate to. She would return changed, with a wider perspective on life. A world view was what she needed, and she would get it by traveling. Nothing to tie her down, including but not limited to family, friends, lovers...she was going on. Farewell, my lovely.

Madras the Elephant

The original from home.


He was a professional out of college. It took hard work to get into the art director job he was in now, but once established, he had complete creative freedom. Passion took him further than his portfolio. It was that very passion that led him to be proud of the clothing he chose to wear. His brightest articles of clothing were not cheaply dyed cotton sold as "madras", but true patches of fabric from India; crafted there and sent to the states. It meant a bit more to him to wear the real thing from his homeland, rather than purchase a mass-produced piece. He thought to himself, "originality is fleeting, always copied...yet, when seen, truly inspirational."

Animal Fashions. Up for 2 more days at IndyInk.
84 S. Broadway-Denver.

A Classy Lady

A simple plan.



Of course, she thought. How could it be anymore obvious? "I rarely purchase anything from the stores anymore, and since I have learned to sew, why, its so simple! I could use it in so many ways. With the dress and my pearls, atop my coat, I could make a statement at work and leave it on for the entire day! This is what I have been missing when I look in the mirror." The scarf wasn't all that she was missing, however. Indeed she had created a cage for herself, flitting about her neatly organized Park Slope apartment, making the neighbors crazy when they dared watch her activities. But when she walked out of her building, their gossip was all but silenced. Gorgeous in her overcoat atop her dress, with a line of pearls across her neck, and that shock of color that was her scarf... Was that really all she thought about? "Simple, keep it simple. I choose the ensemble, the details, and that is enough complication in my life." With that, she walked to the Brooklyn Co-Op on Atlantic, for some Gorilla Coffee and a croissant.

Drink Like a Fishhead Morris

The story of a fish, man.

He was a rake. His clothes, demeanor, all of it. He had impeccable scales. He liked his drink. Because of his qualities he was popular with the mermaids and the octopi. He was a fish, and yet still human. He was the rakish Mr. Fishhead Morris. We all have our weaknesses, so why judge a fish because he enjoys a drink? Being in the water never truly quenched his thirst. No, he had a desire for greater things in life. Through rose lenses, or an alcoholic haze, perhaps he could glimpse his future. . . but for now he was content getting a beverage when he could spare a moment. He would contemplate, yet never pursue his full potential. "Yes, greatness will come, but for now, how about a drink?" To a passerby- an alcoholic. To his friends? A lost cause; but to himself? . . . he thought of himself as a simple fish, swimming to the currents of his own path.
To me?
A rakish, fishy, magnificent bastard.

Animal Fashions, up for one more week at IndyInk on 84 S. Broadway

The Incorrigible Old Toad

The Old Toad.



He was so set in his ways. A habitual smoker of fine tobaccos and his extensive collection of pipes were just a few of his many interests. "I must have a windsor knot, a flower upon my notched lapel, and walking stick in hand- otherwise, what's the point?" His interest in all things sartorial, as well as female, always led him down an exciting yet rarely rewarding path. As an older toad his passions reverted to the simpler things in life- gallery openings, attending events for close friends. Enjoying a simple shot of espresso on a Sunday morning with a chocolate chip biscotti. The women in his life had always thought of him as the man with the most potential; yet his failure to see it in himself had left him as a lonely bachelor, but a happy purveyor of the finer things in life.

Animal Fashions at IndyInk through July 1st

Plaid

On time, every time. In plaid pants.

Sure he had plaid pants. He had few things, but the things he had he adored, and brought out often. The plaid pants were one of his favorites. Lightweight, cotton, perfect for Spring and even early summer. Roll them up, wear them out, get some looks, check the time, off to work. Comfort is key, he thought. Looking good is what you do, naturally if you can. But comfort, ah comfort, was always number one. If you aren't comfortable with you, how can you possibly be comfortable in what you wear? You wear the clothes, they don't wear you.

Animal Fashions at IndyInk until July 1
ArtWork and Apparel for sale

I used to race, but now I drink

The former Champion.

Bred for perfection, seasoned on the track. Yes indeed Mint-Julip was the champion, and he was revered in all of the watering holes he frequented. The Kentucky Derby was still an enjoyable race to watch, and always a good reason to throw on the bow tie and blue blazer. Yes, Derby time; the ladies in their big hats, the smell of money... but especially that deep, earthy smell of the track. The brave but mostly naive strangers that approached him in the bar still asked the same questions.
"Hey, Mint-Julip! You're a real inspiration, man. You still hit the tracks? How's the leg?"
"Huh," he thought, taking a long pull on his short, double brandy, "I used to race. But now I drink."

Animal Fashions is showing through July 1 at IndyInk. T-shirts and some art still available.

3 Piece Penguin

The 3 Piece Penguin

The standard suit was fine for those brash, young fellows that worked downstairs. A jacket and some slacks were fine, but he had a different idea of what was stylish and hip. Indeed a 3 piece suit had a certain amount of character to it that few could pull off. Had he not been a character himself, the suit would have got all of the attention.

Animal Fashion opens this Friday at 7PM at IndyInk
30 new pieces by yours truly.

Ralphish

The East Coast had a Profound effect on this fish out of water.


Ralph fell in love with Boarding School attire. Prep-wear was his passion. Post grad, he worked a few corporate gigs. If it weren't for his outbursts in the middle of board meetings, he would have had a lifetime job in the city, with a weekend home in the Hamptons. His eccentricities left him jobless, without family, yet fully creative in his own right. The art would pay eventually, he thought. As he put on his blazer, tweed pants, and prep tie, "saddle shoes today, why not?" With that he took to the streets with a renewed sense of purpose...

Animal Fashions Opening on Friday June 4. 7PM to 11PM

Play with your food.

Mother said don't play with your food.


But Mother had eight arms, and didn't speak well underwater. Nor did she mention that a good place to pick up food was under the bridge on the way to the seafront. She also failed to mention how cool a white blazer, bowler, wingtips and bow tie looked together. So play with my food I will.

Animal Fashions. One week from Friday, June 4. IndyInk. See you then.

Sneak PEEK

Hello there.



The story of the squirrel.
Mr Nibbles liked to chew. He also enjoyed going out in dapper attire. A fit bowler, his tailored plaid jacket, and his wingtips brought him attention from those at the park. However, being the timid gentleman he was, he rarely stuck around for compliments.
Popcorn and nuts were the way to his heart.

Animal Fashions at IndyInk June 4.

You're Invited...

YOU are invited to the Animal Fashions Show in Denver. June 4 to July 1.